


Rage

by AyashiTetsuko132



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Femicide, Fetal Homicide, Gore, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 07:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19884202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AyashiTetsuko132/pseuds/AyashiTetsuko132
Summary: For once, without hesitation, he turned his face towards the full moon.





	Rage

**Author's Note:**

> Remus John Lupin has never been too happy about being a werewolf. But what if, after one particular incident, he decided to fully embrace being one?

They found her in a dungeon in a deserted castle, somewhere in the North.

It had been twenty-four-hour since the Auror was declared missing on duty. 

She was laid on her stomach, her face unseen as it faced the floor. Both of her hands were tied behind her back with a rope, magically bound to remain tied when a conventional weapon is used to untie it. 

Her hair had been bright pink when they last saw her, but it was black with streaks of red when they discovered her that day. Her robes were so badly torn that when they turned her over, Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody ordered the rest to avert their gaze before conjuring up a white sheet to cover the lifeless body.

Do not let him see this, Moody warned his team members. 

He then sensed hurried movement around him, but his magical eye learned that it was too late to do anything about it, for the man that he was talking about had entered the dungeon.

There were bruises and wounds on every part of her body. It was hard to imagine what kind of spells had caused this, even though, technically, a group of Aurors --and a former Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher-- would be able to name it one-by-one.

Two things stood out from her lifeless body, that would forever haunt his memory of her.

One: The word “Mudblood” that was carved into her exposed chest. Glinting madly, declaring to the world what kind of twisted, perverted ideology that had led to her demise.

Two: The trickle of fresh blood flowing between her legs. That let it be known that that night, there was more than one life lost in that dungeon.

The man had been completely silent when he first saw her. But the deafening scream that he subsequently let out sent pain to the others’ heart --and chills down their spine. 

Nobody even tried to stop him from grabbing and hugging her body, though the place was considered a crime scene and should be sterile.

Nobody tried to console his tears, to stop his rage. To calm his agony.

Because everybody knew that somehow, he needed his moment. For even in this state, she was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life, and it pained him so.

\--

When he opened his eyes, he was still in that semi-derelict cottage he had been calling home in the past years.

From the rays that shone through the window, Remus John Lupin was able to tell that it was already afternoon. He was not sure what time it was exactly, but it was more because he no longer cares.

As his consciousness flew back in, he began to hear voices, calling his name from outside the cottage. He knew that voice; he recognised it as his student’s. Harry. 

His feet almost instinctively moved to get up and opened his door, but his mind prevented them from making any move. Because he was in no state-of-mind to receive visitors. So he maintained the protective charm that he had set up on the premise, hiding his presence from the rest of the world.

Minutes passed, and he heard the teen’s footsteps circling his residence. A true Gryffindor indeed; he would not give up when he knew that the person that he had been looking for was inside. But after a while, even such a tough-hearted person finally gave up. 

Being a fellow Gryffindor, Lupin found himself wondering if he would soon reach his own limit like that. If ever.

He did not even know how many days had passed since he --and the group of Aurors-- found her lifeless body in that dungeon. There had been a funeral, arranged by her parents and attended by all of her friends and members of the Order. But only one person was missing; the person that should have been there to welcome guests and receive words of condolences. Her husband. Him.

Lupin had purposely refused to have anything to do with the funeral, let alone attended it. Seeing her body being defaced like that was hard enough for him. Please did not force him to see her being buried. The thought of her rotting away six feet underground, being taken over by nature would be the end of him. He was sure that he would force himself to jump inside the grave.

Lying on the floor, he could not even remember the last time he had a meal passing down his throat. He was still in the clothes that he wore that night, stained with the red of her blood. Somehow it comforted him to have parts of her on his clothes, on the golden band on his ring finger. He feared that if he takes them off, or washes his hands, he would lose her forever.

His eyes had been blurry with tears, and he was exhausted. Yet he had been unable to close them.

For whenever he did, his mind would conjure up shades of pink. 

Of her hair in the morning light, against their white bedsheets. 

Even when he rushed to reopen his eyes, what he would feel next was the touch of her hand on his chest, feeling his increased heartbeat whenever she was near. Her voice, calling his name. Her laughter. Her whispers in his ears. Her moaning whenever she was under him.

Her, breathing. Being alive.

When he tried to fight off these images, the memories would mess up with his heart even more. For the next thing he felt was the softness of her belly when his lips touched them, eagerly anticipating the fruit of their love. 

Without being asked, his mind recalled a piece of information that he once read in a Muggle book about pregnancy and childbirth. 

At 16 weeks, the vital organs would have been developed --he knew this for certain for he had heard the heartbeats himself, as his senses heightened around the full moon. The foetus would be about the size of an avocado --small, but thriving. A little child that was his own. Who may, or may not, inherit his curse. 

At this point, he did not care about curses anymore. For as long as the child is alive, even if they had to undergo painful transformation every month, they would go through it together. As father and child. Hell, he would even teach him how to be a good werewolf, if that is what it takes. Lick his fur clean. Teach him how to hunt. The child would be his own pup ---even he found this idea amusing. 

But that flicker of life had been put off before it even had a chance to shine.

Fresh scars formed on his arms and face when he failed to contain the rage that resurfaced, following the appearance of these images.

But as the sun came down, he turned his face towards the window. Setting his eyes on the sight that he fears the most: The waxing gibbous moon.

Strangely, instead of the usual fear, he found unfamiliar new energy flowing through his bloodstream instead. 

\--

Lupin found them at the Muggle side of London, running rampage at a summer garden party.

What a convenient target --even he had to admit that it was smart of them to pick up this spot. A place full of intoxicated Muggles, where they would be completely oblivious of their surroundings. When the first Death Eater cast his spells, these Muggles must have thought it was part of a party trick or something. Instead of running away, they would be in awe, stepping closer to death unknowingly. Becoming just another milestone in the Dark Lord’s rise to power.

He knew that by tomorrow the Muggle media are going to report this as a terrorist attack; a bombing or something. It had become quite common these days. 

As the sky turned purple, the light at the tip of his wand helped him get through the panicking crowd. Men and women, all of them were in tears as they screamed and ran for their life. There were shots of red and green blasting through the sky; once in a while, a burst of laughter was also heard. He kept on walking until he made it into the centre of the garden, where the crowd cleared to reveal four to five wizards and witches in black robes and masks that resemble a skull.

He waved his wand and sent out his first counter-attack. 

When the Auror group arrived at the scene, he was fighting two wizards at the same time, all of them casting spells towards his direction. He either dodged the shots or used an overturned table as a shield; having been on a mission with him several times, the Aurors noticed that his reflexes were distinctly better than usual, despite rumours of his condition after ... You know.

Even as he concentrated on fighting the two wizards, he would not stop glancing at the darkening sky, as if waiting for something to come.

His eyes glinted when the sign that he had been waiting for appeared. Sending off blasting shots towards the two wizards, Lupin then Disapparated and reappeared on top of a brick wall in the garden. 

The remaining Death Eaters immediately turned their attention on him, getting themselves ready for an attack that would end him forever. But much to their surprise, instead of launching a defence or something, Lupin threw his wand to the ground --as if he would no longer need it.

The Death Eaters cocked their head, staring at him in confusion. 

After a brief moment of silence, they began to raise their voices and commented on his action --mostly in a mocking tone. One of them even pointed out about his “dead, half-breed spawn” and how he should have gone to be with it by the moment.

The Death Eaters laughed and laughed until they noticed the cloud in the sky cleared, revealing the gigantic full moon hanging in the sky.

Some of them literally dropped their wands to the ground in shock.

For 34 years, Lupin had been holding himself back. Hiding from the moonlight in the dark attic of his parents’ home, in the dusty rooms of Shrieking Shack. In the deep, dark forests of Yorkshire, near his semi-derelict cottage. Chugging down Wolfsbane whenever he had access to it. Avoiding civilisation whenever he can, for fear that he may possess a threat to them ...

But the moon had called for its lost child and whispered to him about how powerful he can be when he let himself go.

So he turned towards its direction and greeted it with a smile.

For the first time ever in his life, he embraced the pain when his bones cracked, his muscles elongated, as his form shifted into something irrecognisable. He could hear his own blood rushes as adrenaline peaked, spreading a foreign sense of excitement throughout his system.

He felt himself salivating but made no attempt to hold it back; he grinned as he felt his fang growing, ready to bite and tear.

His clothes shredded as the presence of the human in his mind grew tinier, less significant.

When he jumped down from the wall and tore the limbs of the first Death Eater he saw, he was no longer himself. He no longer understood the speech of human as he pulled out the entrails of the next Death Eater in line.

He had only one word to recognise when the Beast had completely taken over: 

_Kill._

**END**


End file.
